Caelan’s POV
I opened my mouth, wanting to say something, but I didn’t know what to say.
She wasn’t done.
“Look at you now. You’re already down on your luck, and you still let Ryan call you ‘Your Majesty’ like you’re somebody important. Anyone would think you were some kind of big shot.”
I stared at her.
In all my twenty-six years, no woman had ever dared speak to me like that.
She stood across the dining table with her hands on her hips, a look of stubborn satisfaction in her bright eyes, as though she’d finally found a chance to put me in my place.
But there was no malice in her words.
If anything, it felt like she was simply determined to win the argument.
I forced a strained smile.
“You’re right. It should change.”
She faltered, clearly not expecting me to agree.
The defiance in her eyes faded.
She looked down, fingers twisting the edge of her apron, and her voice softened.
“It’s not that bad. Sure, going bankrupt and being in debt is rough, but everyone hits a low point. I believe you’ll pull through.”
In all my twenty-six years, this was the first time someone had looked at me with such genuine sympathy and reassurance.
When she said, “I believe you’ll pull through,” there was nothing but sincerity in those amber eyes.
I nodded, thanked her, and felt an inexplicable tightness in my throat.
Ryan came back that morning.
The moment he walked in, he told Mira that Pack Enforcement had removed Elias and his family.
Then he reported that the new apartment was ready.
“Your Majesty, shall we move today?”
I gave him a look.
“Don’t call me Your Majesty anymore.”
Ryan froze, clearly confused.
Mira quickly stepped in to explain.
“He’s gone bankrupt, so it’s better to keep a low profile. ‘Your Majesty’ might raise questions, don’t you think?”
“You really have thought this through. So from now on… I call you by your name? Cale?”
I shrugged indifferently.
“Whatever.”
Then she and Ryan got to work packing.
I sat on the couch and watched her roll up her sleeves, carrying boxes and belongings around with brisk, no-nonsense efficiency.
I tried to get up and help, but she immediately pressed me back down.
“You need to rest.”
She turned, poured me a glass of water, and pressed it into my hand.
“Drink more water when you have a fever. It’ll help you recover faster.”
I held the glass and watched her walk away.
She’d spent so long taking care of that man that caring for someone had become second nature to her.
She’d learned to cook and look after someone because of that doctor, and now the habit had carried over to me.
I scoffed inwardly.
To become this devoted to someone who never deserved her—had it really been worth it?
When the moving van pulled up in front of the villa, she sighed.
“Take one last look at this place.
Why don’t you take a picture?”
”What for?”
”A keepsake.” She looked at me earnestly.
“Look at it when you have time. Use it as motivation to work hard and earn it back.”
Ryan hurried to smooth things over.
“Actually, maybe not. A photo might just make you feel worse.”
I pulled out my phone and snapped a picture of the villa.
She blinked, clearly surprised that I’d actually done it, then smiled.
I slipped the phone back into my pocket, catching the slight curve of her lips.
After a long day of hauling boxes, we moved from a villa in the city’s most exclusive district into an eighty-square-meter apartment.
The living room was cramped, the kitchen narrow, and the two bedrooms sat side by side, separated by a wall so thin you could hear a pin drop through it.
While Mira was organizing the kitchen, Ryan leaned in and whispered, “This place is beneath you, sir. We can always come up with an excuse later and say you’ve made your comeback, then move back.”
“If you ever take it upon yourself to make decisions like this again, I’ll send you to patrol the territory border for a few years.”
”Yes, yes.
My mistake.”
He apologized, but the expression on his face told me he thought he’d figured me out.
He’d been with me long enough to know my temper.
If I’d been genuinely angry, I never would have played along with this bankruptcy charade.
His job was to say the things I couldn’t and do the things I was too proud to do.
That evening, Mira asked Ryan to stay for dinner.
He declined several times.
But when she said, “Cale only has you now. He should be the one thanking you,” I forced the words through gritted teeth.
“Mira’s right. I should thank you.”
Ryan ate that meal with sweat beading on his forehead, not daring to reach for any dish near me.
The moment I set down my bowl, he bolted, gone before I could blink.
After the door clicked shut, the small apartment fell quiet, leaving just the two of us.
An awkward silence settled between us.
Mira broke it first.
“I’ll go wash the dishes. You go take a shower. There’s only one bathroom, so we’ll take turns from now on.”
I stayed on the couch while she stood at the sink with her back to me.
Water splashed, porcelain clinked against porcelain.
I’d never lived in a place this cramped.
But when she said, “We’ll take turns from now on,” those words seemed to carry an assumption that we’d be spending a long time together, as though it were the most natural thing in the world.
She glanced back from the kitchen doorway.
“Don’t get your wound wet. Just wipe yourself down with a damp towel.”